The Distant Threshold
The silver ring sat on my index finger, a cold band of metal that felt less like jewelry and more like a piece of ice I had swallowed. It was the only thing I owned that did not belong to the government, a relic from a time before the border, before the pension calculations, before Mara’s silence became a wall I could not climb. The vibration started low, a hum in the bone, a warning that the...
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